


Hallelujah

by novemberhush



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Needs A Hug, Dean's POV, Incestuous Feelings Between Brothers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sam Does Too Probably, Self-Denial, Self-Loathing, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:51:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7416733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/pseuds/novemberhush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When their father goes missing while on a 'hunting trip' Dean Winchester sets out to enlist his younger brother Sam's help in finding him. On that fateful drive to Stanford Dean wonders what will happen when he sees Sam again for the first time in two years. Will the feelings that had begun to turn more than brotherly between them still be there? If they are, will Dean still be able to fight them? And why did the universe have to pick now to play that damn song?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm really behind with the show, and this is my first time writing for it, but I saw a songfic challenge on tumblr I couldn't resist. I have fudged a couple of things (forgive me!), but only a couple. It's set just before the pilot episode and told from Dean's POV. The song I was assigned was 'Hallelujah', the Rufus Wainwright version, and all lyrics reproduced here are from it and may differ slightly from other versions you may be familiar with, specifically the Jeff Buckley version (which, like Dean, is my favourite). I have no claim to any song, character or TV show mentioned herein, unfortunately.

 

"Oh, COME ON!!!" Dean exclaimed as the classic rock station he had been listening to cut out mid-'Back in Black' and static filled the interior of the car. He guessed he had just passed out of the transmitting range of the station and he wasn't happy about it. But like any hunter worth his (with him at all times supply of) salt he had a back-up plan.

 

"It's okay, Baby," he crooned, lovingly running his right hand over the dash of the Impala, "that's what cassettes are for."

 

 _I know I've got some AC/DC in here somewhere_ , he thought, as he rummaged through the cardboard box full of cassette tapes sitting in the passenger's seat, his eyes flicking back and forth between it and the road.

 

Which was when the staticky radio decided to roar back to life, music blaring ('Sympathy for the Devil' by The Rolling Stones Dean noted, and wasn't that quite the irony for a young man who had spent the last 22 of his 26 years on this Earth helping his father search for the demon that had killed his mother?), and scared the living bejesus out of him. He gave thanks that only Baby was there to witness the startled "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" that slipped from his lips.

 

Dean abandoned his search for a tape and drummed on the steering wheel in time with the music. Maybe this new station wasn't so bad. The next song, however, challenged that opinion. Some hipster, haircut band Dean had never heard of before and hoped never to hear of again. _College radio,_ he smirked to himself. _Gotta be_. The smirk faded as he tried and failed not to think about what college he was nearing.

 

He had known he was coming to Stanford when he set out, of course he had, but he had been doing everything in his power to push that knowledge to the back of his mind. Because thinking about Stanford meant thinking about Sam, and Dean was not sure he was ready for that. He huffed out a derisive laugh. _When was he not thinking about Sam?_ What he wasn't ready for was seeing him again after two years. But their father was missing and he needed Sam's help to find him. He had to man up and stop being such a pussy. He had made his choice two years ago and now he had to live with it. It was still the right choice. The only choice.

 

And then he heard it. The instantly familiar opening bars of a song that was burned into his soul like a veritable mark of Cain. _Aw, crap..._

 

 _I've heard there was a secret chord_  
_That David played, and it pleased the Lord,_  
_But you don't really care for music, do you?_

 

'Hallelujah'. _'Halle-frickin'-lujah'._ Not the Jeff Buckley version (Dean's favourite), but the Rufus Wainwright one. Sam's favourite version of Sam's favourite song. He recognised it straightaway. Well, Sam had played it often enough. _Sam_...Christ, why did he have to hear this song here and now? Didn't the universe ever get tired of messing with him?

 

Dean sighed and stopped fighting it. He let his thoughts drift to his younger brother. His little brother, who he was supposed to protect and guide and look after. Who he was supposed to keep safe from the predators of this world, and any other. He was not supposed to _be_ the predator. He was the big brother, not the creepy uncle. He was supposed to look after him, not want him so much it physically hurt. It was wrong, an abomination. _He_ was an abomination. Or so he told himself. Sam didn't agree.

 

Which was why he hadn't begged Sam to stay two years ago, had practically packed his bags and bought his bus ticket himself. He had to get Sam away from him, away from this longing inside him. It didn't matter that Sam was only waiting for one word from him to make him stay. Dean knew all he had to do was ask. Because Sam had felt the same longing. Oh, nothing had happened between them, but they both knew something had _happened_.

 

He couldn't pinpoint when exactly he had started looking at his brother differently. Had it been when he had to start looking up to his younger brother, both figuratively and literally? Sam was just so damn _good_ , with the biggest heart Dean had ever come across and which he wore proudly on his sleeve no matter how many times Dean told him it would be safer on the inside.

 

And he was smart too. So freakin' smart it made Dean's head spin. And then there was the earnestness, written all over his face, and with which he imbued every task he undertook. It made Dean's heart ache to see it. All that warmth and compassion, intelligence and selflessness, and pure, unadulterated _goodness_. How could Dean _not_ look up to him? And then, of course, there was the growth spurt, Sam shooting up and leaving Dean literally looking up to the kid he'd carried in his arms that cold November night 22 years ago back in Lawrence, Kansas, when they lost their mother and watched their house burn down. It had been their last (only) real home, and Sam was too young to remember it. He deserved a shot at a normal life. Not one spent being dragged across the country by an obsessed, vengeful father and a lovelorn, lustful older brother.

 

It had all happened so gradually he hadn't even noticed, until one day he cracked a stupid joke and Sam met his eyes and smiled, and it hit him - he was in love with Sam. Not loved him, he was _in love_ with him. The realisation made his heart soar and his stomach drop at the same time. This was Sam. _Sammy_. His little brother. He couldn't... he couldn't be... But he was.

 

He thought back to times they had had to share a bed when their father rented a motel room for the three of them with only two beds. When had he stopped resenting the nights Sam had to climb in beside him and started looking forward to them? It had been a while now he realised with startling clarity. But that was nothing to the moment he realised Sam was looking back at him with the same want in his eyes.

 

 _I've seen your flag on the marble arch,_  
_Love is not a victory march,_  
_It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah_

 

Dean blamed himself, naturally. He was the older brother, Sam hero worshipped him, followed his lead in all things, always had. This was no different. He didn't really want Dean, he was merely reacting to what he saw in Dean and mirroring it back. Dean had to get Sam away from him, once he was away from him, away from Dean's sphere of influence, he would start to think straight again, would make a 'normal' life for himself. So he had let him go two years ago and threw himself into trying to forget. Drinking, hunting, womanising. But none of it had helped. Sam wasn't just his blood, he was _in_ his blood, and there was nothing Dean could do to shake this need for him. It had been killing him slowly for two years now, and in his heart of hearts he knew he had been glad to finally have an excuse to go see his not so little brother again. But would Sam want to see  _him?_

 

They hadn't parted on good terms, Sam feeling like he was being punished for something he didn't think was wrong, Dean just wanting things to go back to the way they had been, back to a time when he was annoyed to have his little brother following him around everywhere and not actively wanting him chained to his side. They hadn't talked about it, not in so many words, but it had been there in every look, every glance, every 'accidental' touch. And Dean wanted to put an end to it. Sam didn't.

 

And so he had been hurt and angry when Dean had been all for him heading off to college, striking out on his own and giving up his interest in the 'family business'. For the first time in his life he thought Dean a coward. And it nearly killed the both of them.

 

 _Maybe there's a God above,_  
_And all I ever learned from love_  
_Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you_

 

There had been no heated arguments, just cold words and even colder stares. If their father noticed, he didn't say anything. And then had come the parting. John had said his goodbyes at the motel, letting Dean use the Impala to drop Sam at the bus station. The drive was a quiet one, the air heavy with everything left unsaid between them, Dean refusing to look anywhere but straight ahead. It wasn't until the bus bound for California pulled in that the silence was finally broken. Predictably it was Sam who had the courage to speak up, not afraid of this thing between them, never afraid of it.

 

" _Dean_..."

 

It was a plea, his voice plaintive, desperate, choked with emotion. Dean felt his heart break within him. He risked a glance to his right and instantly regretted it. Sam's eyes were harsh with tears, his face a twisted mask of pain.

 

" _Dean,_ " he repeated. "Dean, _please_! We lov..."

 

"You'll miss your bus, Sammy," Dean cut in. He could hear the hoarseness in his own voice, the clipped, barely held together tone betraying his pain. But this was the only way. It was the right thing to do. For Sam. For him. For everyone.

 

 _And it's not a cry you can hear at night,_  
_It's not somebody who's seen the light,_  
_It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah_

 

And now it was two years later and the memory of watching Sam walk away from him ( _letting_ him walk away from him) and get on that bus still burned bright. They had had no contact since, but it wasn't hard tracking down an address for him. He had thought about calling rather than just showing up at Sam's doorstep at Stanford, but he wasn't sure Sam would've taken the call. He wasn't sure he could've handled it if he _had_ taken it and told Dean to stay away. He wasn't sure he could've stayed away. Yes, their father's disappearance had provided him with a reason to go find Sam at last, but he feared he'd always been mere seconds away from dropping everything and going after him at any given time over the last two years. He was amazed he'd held out this long. But what reception would he face?

 

Would Sam be happy to see him again, as his brother and nothing more, feelings restored to factory settings after putting two years and a little distance between him and Dean? Would he be angry with him, feeling like he'd been cast out of his own family because Dean had been too weak to let him stay near him, afraid of what he might let happen between them? Would he have realised that he had never felt more than brotherly love for Dean and was only ever reflecting what Dean had projected and become disgusted with his older brother?

 

Or would he, just maybe, still feel the same way about Dean as Dean did about him? And would he still be willing to take that next step? Was _Dean_ now willing to take that next step? There was only one way to find out and Dean had never been more terrified in his life, not even that cold November night 22 years ago when he had held Sam in his arms, clutched close to his chest, as they watched their house burn down. Somehow he felt holding Sam in his arms now would be like watching their house burn down all over again, but from the inside out this time. But maybe he was finally ready to strike that match...

 

 _Hallelujah, hallelujah,_  
_Hallelujah, hallelujah,_  
_Hallelujah, hallelujah,_  
_Hallelujah, hallelujah_

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, yeah, I know Sam was actually the one who wanted to leave, but I needed it to be Dean who pushed him away for the sake of the story! I'm also not convinced Sam actually hero worshipped Dean quite as much as I made out, but I'm hoping you'll all be kind enough to go with me on these things! Thanks for reading and I hope I didn't ruin your favourite characters for you! Come say hi in the comments section or on tumblr where I'm also novemberhush. :-)


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